Forsaken Helm
by BellowedBlackDarkness
Summary: Sir Gawain knows what is happening in King Arthur's rein is wrong...but he doesn't want to lose the closest thing he's had to family either. It's time to take a stand. The time to act is upon us.


Forsaken Helm

Chapter 1

A sword cutting flesh. It's something of a pain that we ourselves can't imagine unless we have experienced it beforehand, or maybe haven't lived to tell how it feels. But those that have experienced the pain inched away from the subject like the matter had a festering disease almost as contagious as Black Death itself. Was being cut with a sword such a terrible matter to talk about? Or perhaps, it's the image of flesh parting that had frightened them so. Whichever it was Gawain had to find out…for himself if he had too. Gawain was a awkward sort of existence, which had no mother or father to teach him such normal ways of life. Instead he lay in the street among the hoards of trash and dirt that had taught him more than any teacher could. But more than anything, as he saw the soldiers stroll by, he silently dreamed of being covered with shiny coats of metal, and to wield such a blade so accordingly and gracefully. To step into battle with the mark of Arthur so promptly shining on his breast, a glare into battle a muscular white horse to ballade upon. To protect and to serve…That sounded heroic by itself already. Gawain dreamed of knighthood with a gleam in his beautiful violet eyes, a flash of his pupils and a flap of excitement in his heart. As soon as it blossomed into his chest, he remembered he was no knight, just a simple unfit orphan among trash and the most vile of people. "No place for dream, child" he always told himself, "your only fate is to offer your body as food for the dogs". He hid his disappointment and sorrows in his knees.

"Soon dogs, soon. You will have a feast of filth and broken dreams. Such a feast is only suitable for insects and crows, but it's the only thing for you to eat upon in such lowly times." Gawain's voice echoed through the hallow ally, a lonely breeze the only response of his sacrifice. Is that all the world had to offer? A bright dream, yet so dimmed by garbage and dirt that it had no radiance. He was the candle and his flame had died…all that's left is a piece of useless wax and imperfection inside it's white glow, and all the Earth had to say was a cold breeze?

"An echidna for a feast? I think not, boy. The time to fight has only arrived!" A strong confident voice boomed above Gawain, his shadow drawing the earth cold and barren around him. He looked up and saw shining confidence in the form of gold armor upon the man before him, the finely cut helm cradled his hip and arm. "And I don't think dogs like young orphans." He chuckled jokingly.

Gawain raised his chin to get a better look at the knight. He studied all the grooves and stitches of armor all together, but when he reached his face…it was blank. "Wh-what?" he screamed, getting to his feet and slamming himself flat against the stone wall behind him. "Your face…!"

_

The dream was soon interrupted by a thud and Gawain lying on the cold stone floor, he looked around the room with a state of confusion and panic from the sudden attack. "Wh-Who?"

"You shouldn't be sleeping in so late, Sir Gawain. We have duties to uphold, as you well know." Sir Percival meowed sarcastically, her giant yellow eyes shine dully at Gawain, who was silently cursing at her from under his breath.

"Thanks, SIR Percival…Why are you called a 'sir' anyway?" He chuckled as he picked up everything that was on his bed and threw it at the petite purple cat in front of him, earning a high gasp in surprise.

"It's a sign of respect and knighthood, you red mutt! I didn't think you were that stupid!" She laughed and plopped the bed sheets back onto the bed.

"Speaking of Knighthood…" Gawain mumbled spitefully while starting to strap on his armor, "What is happening with King Arthur? He's not the same as before, maybe we shou-"

"Gawain." Sir Percival strengthened her gentle voice, all teasing and kidding around vanished at that moment. "He saved your life, and you and I know that you would still be out there on the street if he didn't come when he did."

That was a sensitive subject. She only used that against him when she meant business…she knew it would shut up Gawain instantly. "…I keep having those dreams again…You know, the ones where he is without face. I can't help but think it's a sign…"

"A sign for what, Gawain? A sign of you going crazy? Yeah, I believe that."

"You know it too…You've seen what King Arthur has been doing. Killing innocent, conquering villages and towns mercilessly. He's not the same; he used to be so much more….I don't know…GOOD. I joined to protect this kingdom…not destroy it." Sir Gawain placed his helm gently upon his head, dreading the next mission or plan that King Arthur had planted inside his corrupted mind.

"Sir Gawain…You know also what will happen if you defy his word. We gave oath that we'd dedicate our lives to him…an oath we dare not go back upon, or may death swiftly come down on our heads. Do you remember that oath?"

"How could I not? I would never go against King Arthur…but what if this isn't King Arthur…?"

"Talk like that will get you sent to the gallows, Gawain." Boomed a strong, independent voice that could send back curling chills to your spine. Gawain glanced at the voice and blinked at Sir Lancelot leaning against the door, his armor twinkling darkly. "I think I speak for us both when I say that Sir Percival and I are the only family you have, and the same goes for us. To lose you over an oath is something more than the most headstrong and arrogant things you could ever have done is just plain ludicrous." His black quills slick and blunt as ever…just like his brain. Gawain knew he meant well, but he also knew what was happening was wrong…but what would he do? Lose the closest thing he's had to a family or risk his neck for a country that he couldn't protect against it's own king? He glanced down at the swords in his armored gloves, a bright emerald piece shining pridefully at each of their ends. They looked more confident than their master…and more loyal also.

Sir Lancelot placed a confident hand on Gawain's shoulder and smiled gently, nodding at Percival to come and give Gawain comfort also. "We all lose our paths one time or another…But it's our job to get up and look for it again." The small cat patted Gawain's back, flinching an eye when the metal from their armor clanked together in a long tin-can sort of echo vibrated.

"I have not lost my path…" Sir Gawain announced with upmost confidence, "I just hope that our King has not lost his."


End file.
